The Song I've Always Known
by Broken Perceptions
Summary: Bones had always insisted she could've been the one to take the bullet. So what if she did? How would the team manage? And how would they deal with a new killer? A different take on, The Wanna Be in The Weeds. B&B.
1. Chapter 1: Keep Bleeding

**Hey guys!! Alas, I have returned to the land of fanfiction! It has been quite awhile, I must admit. I had originally started with Final Fantasy fiction when I first used this site, so this is definitely something new for me, in terms of writing for a TV series. But it cannot be helped, for _Bones_ is simply radtastic. I've never been as drawn in to as show as this, and I've watched quite a lot to television. however, this is beside the point. I got the idea for this story after I watched the correlating episodes, _The Wanna be in The Weeds_, and The _Pain in the Heart_. In the latter, at Booths funeral Bones insisted she could've been the one to take the bullet. So I started thinking, hey, why not? And thus, this story was created.**

**So this is just a different take on things. I hope you enjoy it. ;)**

The minute her coal jacket had been unwoven from her petite frame, he'd acknowledged that Temperance was about to illustrate a mischievous behavior not yet exhibited to the world. Her grey, cerulean eyes lustrous, auburn strands eclipsing the structure of her gorgeous face, she had audaciously clasped the microphone and allowed her voice to be liberated beyond the confines of her lips; her tone weaving a divine symphony throughout the intricate layers of the atmosphere, as Booth's smile coiled into one of serenity. Bones hadn't been insincere when she'd informed both himself and Sweets earlier, that vocalization far more superior than Cyndi Luaper ,had been one of her many assets. He'd incredulously assumed that it was just another ability that she'd flaunted egoistically, and had only endowed the stage as a challenge to perhaps exemplify the emptiness woven within her intellectual words.

Yet she'd transpired once more to establish such attributes as tangible as her renowned Forensic anthropologist title.

And now, as she marvelously sung and jovially waltzed upon the stage, his chocolate orbs couldn't transcend from her frame. The luminosity that radiated from her skin; the curves which were supplemented by her toned and slender body; the innocent naivety cultivated within every articulation, every perplexed expression upon confrontation with pop culture and psychological ideology; every probable aspect that obscurely composed the elegant inner skeletal and nerve systems of Brennans being enthralled him. And just as heroine or ecstasy, his soul yearned for more.

"I suppose she did prove us wrong Agent Booth.", a impish voice spoke, causing Booths eyes to deviate from Temperance's display toward the astonished features of Dr. Sweets.

"She truly is a woman of talent…"

A faint chuckle radiated from Seely's frame, as his elated smile remained perpetual upon his lips.

"I suppose she is." he replied, "I just wish I could record this."

Sweets concurred with a vague nod as his arms weaved themselves before his chest.

"Any news on Pam?"

Upon the inquiry, Booths grin diminished, and coiled into a etched, disgruntled line.

"No. I've had officers check the area, but there's been no sight of her. She's seemed to disappear as soon as we closed Tommy's case."

Sweets appeared satisfied with his response for now, as no words were fabricated for a rebuttal. Booth had acknowledged that perhaps it was a matter to be investigated the following morning, since Pam had illustrated little indication of being precarious. Delusional and poignant, yes, however, not hostile or malicious. The good doctor had simply requested that she'd be apprehended and brought in to receive psychological counseling, so he could perhaps unweave the complex turbulence of self acceptance and value. He'd also desired to do so for the health of Booth, who had become the next symbol of fascination, and despite elusive records of brutality, Sweets had implored the agent to be wary.

So he had corresponded by having his men retrieve her, yet only to disparagingly discover that she was no where to be found. Her home had portrayed no indication of being perturbed, and colleagues had insisted upon inquiry that she hadn't been to work for the past 72 hours. Relatives also confirmed that communication had been obscure for the same amount of time, and phone calls or emails that had been dispatched for verification of her existence had been neglected. Booth was contemplating that perhaps a filed missing persons report could arouse her appearance from some reclusive location.

He was about to propose his mental deliberation toward Sweets for some perspective, however, the agonizing shriek of gun shots bellowed within the atmosphere. Instinctively, observers in the audience cowered in the shelter of their tables or chairs, yet immediately, Booth hastily rose to his feet. Retrieving his gun, he scrutinized the area, distraughtly attempting to confirm a visualization on the shooter.

"_**TEMPERANCE**_!!" Angela's voice screamed, the excruciating horror of her tone resulting in Booth to hastily shift his focus toward his partner.

Hues of crimson began to diminish the emerald fabric of her blouse in her chest and lower abdominal region, as Bone's frame began its decent toward the ground. The whole world appeared to dismally groan and tremor as her body impacted the floor; her vision vaguely obscured as she perceived Seely hastily sheath his gun and sprint to her side. She marveled his leap as he easily hurdled the incline between the ground and the stage, his muscular frame consequently halting once he reached her.

"_**Bones**_!" he rasped, his hand eloping the wound upon her chest to obstruct the manifestation of blood, his chocolate eyes never deviating from hers.

"It's gonna be okay Bones. You hold on for me okay?!"

She corresponded with a frail nod, the diminishing vigor of her muscles within her right arm groaning in anguish as she ascended her hand forward to clasp his face.

"B-Booth… are you okay?" she inquired, her eyes attentively analyzing his skin for abrasions or any indication of injury as her words invoked crystalline tears to cultivate within his eyes; her compassion for his condition igniting agony to desecrate his core.

"Y-Yeah Bones, I'm fine." he replied, resigning one of his hands from her wound and stroking her auburn strands with bloody appendages.

"But let's not worry about me, huh? Let's focus on you. Hold on for me. You're gonna make it through, okay?"

Once more she abided his words, ardently insinuating her eyes upon his handsome features.

"Booth, it… it burns…." she whimpered, her frame writhing beneath his clutches while her body convulsed with coughs. Seely abruptly halted the pacifying waltz of his fingers from her hair, hastily descending his hand to cleanse the skin of her chin of blood as it had emerged from her lips. His brow coiling in distress, he gazed back toward Angela for immediate assistance.

"Ange, apply pressure to the wound on her stomach, while I cover her chest. Hodgins, call 911! And would someone please check around to see if we can find a shooter!?", he bellowed.

All that had been instructed instantaneously aroused to action. Angela had hastily materialized at his side and initiated pressure upon Brennan's abdominal wound; Hodgins had dissipated from view in conquest of a landline; Cam equipped her gun and had disappeared to inspect the perimeter surrounding the bar; resulting in only Dr. Sweets and Zack to observe in terror of the blood which had accumulated upon the floor, as well as the consistent contamination of it within Bones clothes.

"Please Sweetie, please hold on!" Angela implored, tears cascading down her skin as she perceived her best friend rousing in and out of consciousness.

"God, Booth, we're loosing her!"

"_No we're __**NOT**_!" he countered callously, his hands detaching themselves from her wound as they ascended upward and clasped her face.

"Listen to me Bones, you're gonna make it!" he growled, his own tears bleeding from his eyes as he leaned forward; his nose gravitating only inches from her own, blood saturated fingers tainting her skin .

"Don't you **dare **quit on me! I promised I'd never leave you, you _better __**not**_ leave me! _**Bones**_!"

The words that were articulated from his lips had substantiated as nothing, since silence had eloped the atmosphere around her. Temperance perceived his lips moving, yet she had vague inkling as to what they were fabricating. All she could fathom was his tears which charred her skin, and even their miniscule warmth was gradually diminishing. An immense chill was igniting her body, leisurely transcending from her toes to head, while vital necessities such as heart rate, blood pressure, and pulse, began to recede. It was upon such acknowledgement that Brennan realized the actuality of her predicament ; death was imminent. She was going to die, going to become another shallow vessel to be dispersed beneath conjurations of soil and gravel, with only her name to be left as a mere whisper portraying her accomplishments.

This was how it would all end.

"_Temperance_! _Temperance_!" Booth agonized, the hands which clasped her face subtly quaking her body to somehow revive her from her semi unconscious stupor. When she didn't correspond, he descended his hands toward her waist and wove his arms about her desecrated frame; ascending her upward and rigidly plastering her body against his own, as he hysterically began to sway on his heels.

"_**Bones**_! _Please_, _answer me_! _**BONES**_!!" he shrieked, his tone of despondency suffocated by the fabric of her blood tainted blouse. Her persistent silence initiated his tears to disperse more heavily, as the hope which had been cultivated in his thoughts progressively dissolved. Yet as his grasp on her being constricted, his heart had inclined to remain obstinate. She wouldn't die, he _would __**not**_permit her to die. He was, in the simplest terms, her guardian, her sword and shield. As long as his lungs commenced to circulate oxygen through out his body, he'd be the intricate and vigorous armor that invisibly resided upon her skin. And if that shell were to be penetrated and shattered, consequently indicating her death, he too would die along with her.

The pressure Booth allotted to her body caused her agony, yet Bones had no desire be relinquished of his grasp. The rigidity of his frame allowed excessive blood to clot, and it provided warmth to her already diminutive supply. Though she despised contemplating it, it was Seely's anguish that was saving her, and she prayed that his grip would remain impassive.

"B-Booth…" she croaked, her cerebral cortex arousing her nerves to action as her feeble muscles once more ascended her arms upward to clasp his shoulders.

"Don't…. don't let go…"

She perceived his head shifting from side to side to portray his derogatory response.

"I won't Bones, I promise." he replied, his tone, she acknowledged, frail as he futilely attempted to remain optimistic and strong.

"But don't you dare let go on your end. You hear me Temperance?"

Her lips, incredulously, were able to cultivate into an impish smile.

"Don't… call me Temperance…" she whispered, her diaphragm contracting as she struggled to fabricate one last fragment before imminent unconsciousness diluted her senses.

"I… I p-prefer Bones…."

He would have retorted with a mischievous statement or perhaps a smile, had he not acknowledged her body slacken against him. Her arms gradually receded down the fabric of his auburn jacket before impacting the floor; the clash of concrete upon her knuckles nearly instigating his heart to halt pulsation.

"_Bones_?" he inquired, subtly unweaving his body from her own, only to observe her head decline backward as anxiety clenched his nerves.

"_**BONES**_!!"

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The EMT's had arrived just minutes after Temperance's consciousness had deteriorated, and hastily transported her via ambulance. Blood transfusions and an IV were ardently initiated from within as Booth and the crew dutifully pursued in Seely's SUV from behind. Bones condition had been distinguished as critical, and every second mattered toward ensuring her survival. Though each attempted to remain positive, all comprehended the plausibility that Brennan's life could indeed expire; that perhaps the transfusions couldn't suffice for the accumulative blood lost; that perhaps a critical error could transpire during the conquest of surgery, and the exclusion of bullets.

Every credible opportunity was open at the exploitation of Bone's life, and none of them were as tremendously knowledgeable of this as Booth. While the others waited patiently and anxiously in the lobby, he had been distraughtly pacing the corridor before Temperance's operating room; his senses perceiving every snap of a plastic glove; every shriek of the monitor illustrating and regulating her blood pressure and heart rate; and every prick and pull amongst the instruments which penetrated the elegance of Brennan's skin. He feverishly utilized his Roman Catholic roots as he prayed persistently in his head, his thoughts weaving together a frantic mantra for his partners life.

_Please God, I know she doesn't believe in you, but that doesn't mean she deserves to die._

_I need her, thousands, if not millions of victims demanding solace need her…. Please, don't take her away from them… and please, __**I'm begging you, don't take her away from me**__…_

After what appeared to be hours of tedious implorations to God and vehemently denying the liberation of tears transpiring in his eyes, a surgeon finally arouse from the depths of the operating chamber; his hazel eyes exhausted as his fingers pried the latex gloves from his hands.

"I presume you are an acquaintance of Dr. Brennan?" he spoke, his words entwined with hospitality and reverence as he extended his right hand toward Booth for a accommodating shake.

Seely hastily corresponded the gesture as his eyes gazed toward the doctor with immense hope.

"Yes, I'm Agent Seely Booth, her partner in the field.", he replied, "Is she okay? Did she make it through?"

Retracting his hand, Booth acknowledged the Doctors features be eclipsed by remorse, which he immediately perceived as a horrid sign.

"Agent Booth…" the surgeon began, his words articulated with immense precision and delicacy, so as to not make the news any more difficult to bare.

"I am afraid that there was nothing we could do for Dr. Brennan. She'd lost too much blood from being shot in major arteries. Even if the transfusions could suffice for the lost amount, I believe she would've remained in a coma for quite a bit of time till her body stabilized."

Seely had acknowledged nothing beyond the primary fragment of the doctors words. In fact, everything he had assiduously worked toward in his life had lost all subsistence within that moment. Because though his career FBI status distinguished his as a protector of the people, the jurisdiction when virtue no longer prevailed, he had ultimately failed to defend the one person he'd sworn his allegiance to: his partner. For she was the one who accumulated data to provide him warrants to investigate homes and retrieve suspects; she, who had his back during any crisis and pledged unyielding compassion; and she, who had become the reason he roused out of bed every morning, just for the prospect of perceiving her gorgeous smile, basking in her divine laughter and intelligence.

The doctor, who was able to observe the physical deterioration of the agent, extended and instituted an empathetic hand upon his shoulder.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss." he sincerely spoke, "If there is anything you and your associates need, feel free to notify our employees. We will do whatever we can."

Seely concurred vaguely as the doctor pivoted on his heels and receded back toward the operating room; no longer providing structural support as he found himself propped against the wall. Gradually descending along it's surface, his abrupt collision with the tile on the floor was all it took to instigate the discharge of tears from his eyes.

Hands eclipsing his face, body coiled into a fetal position, Agent Seely Booth's faith in all that was concrete in the aspects of God's compassion, was shattered.

**Duh Duh Dun!! Gasp, whatever shall we do? Read and review, and wait for chapter 2 may be an excellent suggestion. And I had in no way intended that to rhyme. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2: The beautiful lie

**Muhah! I bet you didn't think I'd add another chapter so quickly eh? Well, did I surprise you!? ;) Of course, I can't always promise this. It is only because this story is fresh in my head that I'm updating. So I hope it stays. Before we begin, major kudos to those who reviewed;Wincing Poet, Lanababe, and house broken. Also many thanks to those who added this story to their favorite and update notifications list. I love you all. Now then, let us continue. ;)**

Doctor Leopold Ramsey had never observed an acquaintance of a patient more agonized than Agent Booth, and he'd been a spectator of such traumatic reactions for 25 years. It was if he could actually perceive the creases igniting along Booth's skin as his body commenced to diminish; his soul gradually dissipating through every pore. He'd acknowledged that there was an immense plausibility that Booth would never appear the same, especially since the one person he'd loved had been seized from him under false pretenses. For in all actuality, the surgery had preceded quite nicely, albeit Brennan's physical status remained critical. She'd have at least a week or more of recovery, however, she'd be reinstated of all previous functions, physical and intellectual, prior to the shooting.

These were the words the great doctor had desired to articulate to Booth, yet, by FBI protocol, had been directed not to. Of what circumstance was he obligated to lie, he possessed no inkling. However, it did not appear to constitute a tangible explanation of being deceitful, especially when life or death was the primary subject. He'd always considered himself as a genuine and honorable man, yet, by just observing the anguish within Seely's chocolate eyes, he became acutely knowledgeable that he indubitably wasn't. Wounds could heal, but words cultivated of deception, were eternal.

This deliberation daunted upon him as he strode through the operating rooms doors, hastily disposing his latex gloves in a trashcan while his orbs never deviated from Brennan.

"How is she?" he inquired, gingerly maneuvering to her side as nurses feverishly completed the sutures upon her chest and abdominal wounds.

"She's recovering…", one replied, a blonde, he observed, that had just arrived a little over a year ago. "Blood pressure is returning to normal. Heart rate stabilized. Her body is reacting quite well to the transfusions."

Ramsey released a strained sigh, as astonishingly, a jovial smile impaled his lips.

"Excellent. The bullets?" he instigated once more.

" Cleaned and being packaged. They'll arrive at the Jeffersonian tomorrow morning." a voice corresponded from behind, casing the doctor to pivot on heels; his orbs observing a prominent figure arouse from the shadows cultivated by vague luminosity.

"Ah, Agent Emery, I see it was you who called me just before the operation?" Leo spoke, his tone entwined with agitation and bewilderment.

"You know, as much as a lie can prevent pain, it can very greatly inflict it as well."

The 6'7, broad and muscular agent strode forward, his brow foiled in comprehension, emerald eyes paled.

"Of course, I'm aware of the devastation it can cause, especially in the case of Dr. Brennan, who was a very valuable asset of the FBI." he countered tranquilly, his immense frame now situated on the correlating side of Bone's bed. .

"However, within these circumstances, it'd be best if the world acknowledged her death to be true."

Such precision woven with arrogance stimulated slight infuriation within the doctor, especially since he'd physically perceived the desolation inflicted upon Booth.

"I'd like to know exactly what these _circumstances_ would be, agent." he retorted venomously, yet immediately he became remorseful as those pale, emerald eyes veered toward him, narrowed with vehement exasperation.

"I'm afraid if you knew the circumstances, you, as well as your staff, would be searching for new jobs." he replied, the shadows untainted by illumination eclipsing his features with morbid malevolence.

"Let me make it clear to you, _**doctor**_." he growled, "This is a situation of high security. No one is to know she is alive. Not her coworkers, family, friends, _**no one**_. This floor is under my jurisdiction, and I will be here daily to enforce it. No one below here is to know she breathes. Do you understand?"

Doctor Ramsey swallowed the sluices within his throat and concurred vaguely, observing with relief as the agents features uncoiled.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Emery spoke, all traces of putrid callousness dissipated from his tone. It was if his cruelty had never breached the surface of his caramel complexion.

"Please alert me immediately if she awakens. I'll handles any and all questions. You are only to inform her of the situation regarding her health."

With another corresponding nod from the doctor, Emery took it upon himself to leave; leaving Ramsey in horrifying astonishment at the turmoil to be woven within the next few weeks.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"How long has he been sitting there?" Cam whispered, her body situated beside Hodgins as their eyes observed Booth through his offices translucent glass pane.

"For about four hours now…" he replied despondently, "He hasn't moved one inch."

While Booth had been treading anxiously about the corridor before Brennan's operating room, the group had waited obliviously and disparagingly in the lobby; each deliberating amongst themselves the imminent essence of sorrow which coursed through their veins. It was only when Angela had excused herself to use the women's facilities that she'd stumbled upon Booths anguished form. As she kneeled beside him and embraced his quaking, muscular frame, he had fabricated the words through immense, heaving sobs; **Brennan was dead**. **Bled out**. They hadn't saved her. She'd died due to their inability to acquire medical attention in time. Instantaneously, Angela's petite frame began to deteriorate as she collapsed beside Booth; tears cascading her skin while her arms wove about her waist to prevent herself from entirely degenerating.

Sobs radiating from their feeble bodies, it was only a matter of time before the distressful sound waves breached the lobby, where the rest hastily joined the two to as well comprehend the tragic actuality of the situation. That had been about three hours ago. Now, as time vigorously trudged on, Booth had incarcerated himself within his office; his body anesthetized by agony has his hollow, chocolate orbs gazed into a world beyond our knowledge. With lingering aspiration, he had prayed that Brennan would arouse from the ashes and materialize before him, her gorgeous cobalt eyes radiant as she'd stand before him with that familiar, coy smile that always impaled her lips.

Seconds had transformed into minutes, and minutes had withered into hours. And yet her body still did not cultivate from the humid atmosphere eloping his room. A vexed sigh escaped his lips as his hands ascended upward to eclipse his face. He was such a fool… to believe that she could come back from the dead… _who was he kidding_? He had vehemently prayed to his God, implored _frantically_ to keep her heart pulsating beneath the fortitude of her sternum. Yet what had transpired instead? Her heart rate had withered, blood pressure declined, the alabaster hue of her skin paling as the pupils within her marvelous eyes began to dilate.

He had considered himself a great man. He'd assiduously fought for his country, aided those less fortunate, halted malice schemes, and promptly arrived at church every Sunday at 9 am. Yet his God had neglected his words. If the lord had bestowed life upon the earth, then what caused such divinity to take it away? How could God inflict so much agony upon his people, his creations, when he supposedly loved them, and sacrificed his only son for them?

He anxiously tried to scrutinize and analyze it, yet he his thoughts could fabricate nothing. All that he'd believed in subsisted as shallow vessels of lies and corruption. Bones had been _so pure_, _so virtuous_, _so_…. _Gorgeous_…..

She'd been a component in the conjuration that manifested the blood which coursed through his structure. How could his lungs commence to circulate oxygen, when his heart was deteriorated by the void that'd had now cultivated? Who would he live for?

Her chocolate eyes never deviating from Booth's charred soul, Cam released a dismal sigh.

"Think we should go talk to him?" she inquired, her solemn voice never accumulating above a whisper.

Hodgins broad shoulders roused in a nonchalant motion.

"I dunno. I doubt anything we could say would help ease the pain." he replied, ascending his arms upward as he wove them before his chest.

"All he wants is Brennan, and that's what makes it hurt so much worse. Cause he acknowledges mentally the fact that she's dead, but emotionally, he can't seem to grasp it."

Cam's features coiled incredulously as her gaze transcended toward him.

"Wow. Very impressive. You been listening to Sweets?" her tone conveyed slight mischievousness, yet the circumstances diluted the intended effect.

Once more, Hodgins shoulders roused apathetically.

"This is a difficult time. We all need someone's perspective to guide us toward solace." he responded, and Cam could perceive the crystallization of tears transpiring in his cobalt eyes.

"Especially since… I _myself_, can't believe… _that she's gone_…"

The pathologist vaguely concurred as she couldn't help but weave her arms about her colleague compassionately, her frame attempting to initiate support for his fragile one.

"H-her personality made her so… _so _**tangible**, _you know_?" he whimpered, tears breaching the confines of his eyes as they leisurely cascaded down his pale cheeks.

"I… I always believed she'd live forever…"

"_I know_… _I know_…" Cam coaxed, her tone so subtle, it was as if she was consoling a child.

"I'm gonna miss her too. We all are. But we're gonna make it through this. We've got each other to lean on."

He inhaled a rasped breath as he nodded feebly; Cam's grasp relinquishing from his quaking frame while he hastily attempted to cleanse the teary substance from his skin.

"I know. I won't rest till we **find** the bastard that did this…" he growled, his agony providing a renewed purpose for his despondent heart to gravitate toward.

"Dr. Brennan deserves that, and nothing less."

Cam responded with a firm nod, her soul absorbing strength from his words cultivated of resolve.

"You're right Hodgins. And that's exactly what she'll get."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Grey, cerulean eyes gingerly began to weave apart as a vigorous light surrounded her, causing a disparaged moan to rupture from her lips. The alabaster atmosphere was at first obscure, yet as her senses became aroused, objects began to obtain their distinctive orientation. She perceived a flat screen television situated in the farthest, left corner of her chamber, with a table directly beneath that someone had placed white roses upon. On her right was an immense window that conveyed a marvelous view of the city, and since it was ajar, she was delighted at the subtle breeze that waltzed upon her skin. However, such clarity dissolved as soon as she acknowledged the immense anguish that distorted her frame, once she tried to move toward the consoling graze. Gazing downward, she observed a white gown that loosely draped her skin, as well as the bandaged suture that had inexplicably manifested upon her skin. Furthermore, she perceived the severe pressure of an IV engrained in the crevasse of her right arms veins, along with the monotonous and exasperating shriek of the monitor regulating and illustrating her pulse.

Immediately, horror and bewilderment began to seethe through her pores.

_I'm in a hospital? _she contemplated apprehensively, once more attempting to shift her exhausted body with little success.

_But how? What happened? I remember being at the club, and Booth arranging for me to sing…. But… I can't recall anything else….I don't believe anything happened….how could I possibly end up here?_

"Ah, Dr. Brennan, it is excellent to see you awake." a sincere voice spoke, her eyes hastily transcending toward a now ajar door, as a tall, toned doctor in his forties stood before her.

His hazel eyes illuminated with reverence, he strode forward with sophistication as he halted once he had arrived at her beside.

"I am Dr. Leopold Ramsey. You may address me however you wish. I am the doctor that conducted your surgery and have, since then, been supplying constant supervision. How are you feeling?"

Though obliged by his compassion, Bones couldn't help but perceive the agitation igniting within her blood, due to the actuality of her situation and the little knowledge that supplemented it.

"Medically speaking, my body aches." she replied, "Yet this is not what concerns me. How did I get here? What happened?"

The doctor released a despondent sigh while his eyes descended from her features cultivated of perplexity.

"I can only provide you this information in medical terms." he responded, and Bones acknowledged a taint of remorse within his voice.

"Last night, at approximately 1 am, you were transported here via ambulance. You were in critical condition, since you had been shot twice. The first wound was upon your pectoralis major (chest); the second, the serratus anterior (lower abdomen). You were bleeding heavily, and if you had arrived any later, you would have bled to death."

Brennans features altered from bewilderment to mortification in an instant.

"_I was shot_? _Twice_?" she whimpered, the words articulated in a incredulous and aghast tone.

"_By whom_? _Do my colleagues know_? _Have any of them visited me since my surgery_?"

Ramsey was about to reply, however, it was upon this occurrence that Agent Emery's form aroused within the room.

"And _that_, my brilliant doctor, is where _**I**_ take over." he interjected, the familiar condescendence of his articulation rousing a particular infuriation to appear within his system.

"Thank you for answering the questions thus far. But I must ask that you leave so I may provide Dr. Brennan with the answers she seeks."

Acknowledging that a rebuttal would be futile, Ramsey abided the order and hastily departed the chamber; allowing Bones to scrutinize her company more intimately. He was tremendously toned and muscular, indicating a dedicated life within fitness as she perceived the musculature that was concealed within his dark, cobalt suit. His face was of a oval configuration, complemented by high, and jagged cheek bones, with vague emerald eyes. His chocolate strands were glazed upward with enthusiastic finesse, as it appeared to illustrate a jovial, immaculate hue to the otherwise stolid looking agent.

Once Emery perceived the dismal stride of the doctor dissipate, he provided an impish and benevolent smile toward her.

"Ah, Dr. Brennan. Before I start, I must say it is an honor to be standing before you right now." he told her, his exultation vehement in his words.

Unfortunately, Temperance would not allow such flattery to sway her desire for knowledge.

"I wish I could be honored by your respect, however, I'm not in the mood." she retorted, vaguely concerned with the malice that plagued her tone.

"I wish to know why I'm here, and if my colleagues are aware of the situation…"

"Well, to be blunt doctor, _you were shot_…" Agent Emery replied placidly, impervious to the callousness within her voice.

A scoff roused from her frame upon this statement.

"I agree agent, that much _**is**_ obvious." she commenced to counter, his arrogance and coy demeanor beginning to irk her.

"What of my friends? Were any of them wounded? Any indication as to who did this?"

She acknowledged the brief silence that eloped the atmosphere then, as the agent quietly began to contemplate the articulation of the information he was about to present.

"Your friends, thankfully, were not harmed." he responded, his words fabricated with immense precision as to somehow cushion the impact of the upcoming blow.

"_I_ possess information, however, it is not at this time to be given to them. They are no longer being considered within this case."

Any relief that had been gratified hastily diminished as incredulousness manifested within her face.

"_No longer __**apart**__ of the case_?! _**Why**_!?" she demanded, desperately wishing that she had the strength to arouse from this bed and exude her agitation upon him.

"I _**am**_ apart of the team, and I have been injured. Therefore, we are _very much _**apart** of this case!"

He chuckled vaguely as he convey his disproval with the sway of his head, his arms weaving themselves behind his back in a tranquil manner.

"Not possible. For you see, they can't be apart of the case, because you're no longer apart of the team. _You're __**dead**_, _Dr. Brennan_. _**You were declared as such at 3 am last night**_."

**Gasp!! What interesting way to end things. Please read and review. I'll have another chapter up soon. Thank you loves. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: Our Truth and Resolve

"Not possible. For you see, they can't be apart of the case, because you're no longer apart of the team. _You're __**dead**_, _Dr. Brennan_. _**You were declared as such at 3 am last night**_."

Instantaneously, the circulation of blood abruptly halted, the alabaster hue of her skin withering away into a paler shade. Had she perceived his words correctly? _She was dead_? How was this to be possible? The monitor implicated her heart rate and blood pressure to be stable; the wounds that had been inflicted were woven back together with no avail of deteriorating; the atmosphere of which eloped her was still of the existing and prosperous world. How was there any tangible plausibility that she was deceased?

"I…I couldn't possibly be…" Brennan whimpered, futilely attempting to convey her turbulent thoughts.

"How could I be dead? I'm right here! Everything surrounding me is real!….Isn't it?"

Agent Emery concurred ardently as his pale eyes remained impassive upon her.

"Of course it is Dr. Brennan. It wasn't my intention to confuse you with that statement." he replied remorsefully, and for once, Bones could actually comprehend a tone besides that of arrogance.

"I simply meant it in the terms that the world believes you to be dead. That includes family, friends, even the staff below this floor."

Her perplexity remained idle as her grey, cobalt eyes ascended toward him.

"But why? Why so much secrecy?" she inquired, her voice containing a urgency to quell the despondent bewilderment desecrating her soul.

"What is apparently so dangerous that you must lie to the people I love?"

Releasing a vexed sigh, Agent Emery ascended his right hand upward to dexterously clasp and fold his tie upon his chest, a habit, Bones acknowledged, which implicated a sort of discomfort regarding the situation.

"Because I have reason to believe that we're dealing with a seasoned killer…"

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The groaning disapproval of his door opening with vigilant precision allowed Booth to acknowledge that he was no longer alone. Arousing from his agonized hallucinations, his chocolate eyes discovered themselves gazing into identical ones as Angela stood fragilely before him; the skin of her cheeks flushed and pale.

"Hey Booth…" she whimpered, her voice barely an octave that could be distinguished as a whisper.

He desperately struggled to cultivate a smile as he gazed at her ruefully.

"Hey Ange…" he responded, his hand extended forward as his fingers indicated the chair that lingered before his desk.

"Care to have a seat?"

She didn't respond, yet her body obliged the proposal regardless as her petite frame situated itself comfortably upon it. Silence eloped the atmosphere between them for a few minutes, both contemplating what precisely could be articulated without inflicting distress upon the other.

"You okay?" was the only segment Booth could conjure from his assortment of thoughts, yet he probably was already knowledgeable of the answer.

Angela's shoulders roused apathetically, her eyes descending from his and taking a vehement inquisitiveness of the floor.

"No… I'm trying to be though…" she replied, her palms perspiring as her fingers fidgeted anxiously.

"I know she wouldn't want me to be sad, but… I loved her so much…and I…I just can't believe she's gone…"

The fabrication of words deteriorated as immense sobs radiated from her frame, her hands ascending upward and weaving themselves about her waist, attempting to futilely keep herself from shattering. However, the application wasn't enough. Seely perceived this as he roused from his seat and strode toward her; abruptly halting as he kneeled and wove his arms about her, rigidly insinuating her body against his own.

"I know… I loved her too…"

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"What makes you believe that this is a dangerous killer we're dealing with?" Bones inquired, her tone cascaded with incredibility.

It wasn't her intention to sound apathetic, however, she'd heard the theory trillions of times before, except for the actuality that it'd always been fabricated from Booth's lips. Yes, she'd remember precisely what would transpire after the particular statement had been articulated. His chocolate eyes would persistently scrutinize her movement, never permitting her to be alone and insisting on FBI agents to remain vigilant outside her door. She'd always acknowledged his methods to be meticulously superfluous, yet she couldn't deny the necessity to have him here at her side.

Agent Emery released a vexed sigh, his thoughts tediously formulating a rebuttal as if he'd been anticipating her skepticism.

"The FBI believes this because they've already killed 5 people…" he replied austerely, his eyes observing the acknowledgement of how ominous the situation was, cultivate upon Brennan's face.

"And before you ask, Agent Booth would not know of this case because it is not within his jurisdiction. In fact, the origin of this case resonates from Los Angeles."

Bones grey, cerulean eyes expanded in astonishment.

"I see… that would be a reason why they're not considered for the case…" she spoke, "However, since you're here, that leads me to believe you're in need of the Jeffersonian's services?"

"Actually, the only reason we are here, is to ensure the protection of your teammates, preferably yourself and Booth." he responded, and upon the mere pronunciation of Seely's name, Brennan immediately perceived horror circulate throughout her system.

"What? Why?" she inquired apprehensively, yet somehow, somewhere within the intricate fibers of her thoughts, she already was knowledgeable of the answer.

"Because we believe Booth is the intended target of our suspect."

________________________________________________________________________________

"I-I'm sorry Booth…" Angela whimpered contritely, "I shouldn't have just barged in here and given you my sob story…"

His muscular body was now situated back within his chair behind his desk as she sat parallel to him; the tissues that he'd provided now moist and deteriorated within her grasp.

To the best of his abilities, he lips cultivated into a sincere smile as he simply disregarded her induced selfishness.

"There's no need to apologize Ange." he replied, "It's perfectly fine. We're a team. We need each other to get through this."

She concurred vaguely as a faint chuckle radiated from her lips, though it's substance appeared to be shallow.

"I know." she responded, her right hand ascending upward to cleanse the dried tears from her skin while her eyes remained idle upon him.

"How about you? Are you…okay?"

She acknowledged that she probably sounded imprudent proposing such a question, however, there was comfort in realizing that others were antagonized by the same sorrow.

As she waited anxiously for his response, Booth contemplated how exactly he could translate his construed thoughts. Obviously, his heart was immensely heavy and indignant, especially since Brennan's death had inflicted a void to elope and swallow all that had existed previously. He concurred with Angela's words upon attempting to remain strong, however, he too was obtaining no success.

"I…I am trying to keep breathing…" he synopsized, all disparities and agitations conveyed by a simple fragment. "It's just like you said…. I know she wouldn't want this for me, but… I just… can't stop it… it's all too much."

An empathetically etched line coiled her elegant lips, acknowledging that for Booth, the agony must be immensely superior than her own. For while hers was simply illustrated through a friends perspective, Seely's had been distinguished within the, "what if", category, for everyone within the institution was conscious of the chemistry that had subsisted between them.

"That's because you loved her…" Angela audaciously stated, and such declaration was verified as his chocolate eyes descended from her own despondently.

"But you never got to say it, did you?"

Once more, a remorseful conscious plagued the sway of his head.

"I wanted to so badly as I was holding her…" he told her, and she perceived the tone of his voice collapsing from the pressure of his sorrow.

"But… But I just couldn't… I was frozen… All I could believe was that she was gonna be fine, that I was going to see her again… but…when the doctor told me, I knew… I knew I had lost my chance…"

His skull hastily ascended upward in a fluent motion as tears cascaded and charred the tan complexion of his handsome face.

"I loved her Angela… I loved her so damn much… and now… now it hurts so bad, to love someone you know you can longer touch, no longer see, no longer feel…."

Angela aroused from her seat as she transcended toward him, her arms embracing him upon immediate contact, his sobs quelled by the fabric of her coal blouse.

"I should have taken the bullet… I should be the one dead…"

_______________________________________________________________________________

"What can we do to ensure his safety?" Brennan inquired, the pixilated, crimson hued numbers illustrating her heart rate gradually escalating.

"For now, all we can provide is constant supervision." Emery replied placidly, impervious to the apprehension accumulating within Temperance's blood.

"We must be sure he is to have a weapon on him at all times, as well as a guard to survey and clear the area for suitable activity."

This aroused a scoff from her frame.

"Booth isn't just some victim!" she retorted, offended by the indigence that the agent had attributed to her partner. "He is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and others. A guard would be unnecessary."

Her response had allowed him a impeccably precise approach for rebuttal.

"If that is the case, good doctor, then why are you here?" he countered maliciously, observing with gratification the realization that eclipsed her features.

"T-That is not a fair judgment…" she managed, entirely astonished and dismal by his callous tactics. "How was he to know that I could've been shot?"

Once more, another plausibility of exploitation.

"That is true…" Emery concurred vaguely, " however, it is to my understanding that an agent is to be cautious at every opportunity. And the fact that he had flaunted you before a stage, for all to see, was just a red flag waiting to be burned."

His condescendence and insolence for Booth would not penetrate her conscious any further.

"This assessment is not a fair one, and I wish it to be disregarded." she growled, permitting every ounce of infuriation and cruelty to saturate her words.

"You may have your beliefs, however, they will not be uttered in my presence. I am insulted by the disrespect you provide for my partner, especially considering the numerous times he's saved me in the past."

Her statement had conveyed little effect as his paled, emerald eyes narrowed upon her, his voice horrifyingly docile.

"I apologize Dr. Brennan, however, I cannot reverse my perspective of your partner." though his tone tranquil, his words possessed a type of malevolence and rigidity that ignited goose bumps to inflame her skin.

"I cannot respect a man who has little regard to protect his partner. Even if he has served greatly in the past, this attributes to nothing if it cannot ensure your safety during the present and future."

It was futile, Brennan acknowledged, to persist in declaring and illustrating Booths brilliance. Agent Emery had ingeniously manipulated and construed her words, allowing vague subsistence to linger within her sentences. Though she perceived the actually that mentally and physically Seely would always be there to protect her, Emery's vindictive and enduring disparagement had diminished the intricate layers constituting the belief. Consequently resulting in a vulnerability that Brennan vehemently loathed.

With little implication of defiance, Agent Emery jovially smiled, satisfied with having conquered the dispute.

"Well, now with that settled, let us move on to other things…"

__________________________________________________________________________________

A pungent, agonizing sensation antagonized his cheek, his eyes gazing toward Angela incredulously as she stood before him agitated.

"_DON'T YOU _**DARE** _SAY SUCH A THING_!!!" she shrieked, the octaves of her piercing tone igniting chills to radiate down his spine.

"_YOU'D RATHER HAVE HAD __**BRENNAN**__ GO THROUGH THIS!? __**YOU SELFISH BASTARD**__! HOW DARE YOU_!!"

Booth sat incarcerated by skepticism, entirely flabbergasted by the infuriation that had previously never been exhibited in the time he'd know her, as well as the vigorousness of her punch.

"She _**LOVED**_ you!! Do you really think she'd wish such a thing, to have you be in that predicament rather than her!?" the inquiry could have possibly allowed a response, yet she didn't permit him the opportunity,

"You know _**DAMN WEL**_L that she wouldn't!! You were always protecting her Booth, always on call, always there to pick her up when the pieces fell, but you know what? She wanted to do the same thing for you, and she did. So don't you dare say such a thing Seely, because I _know _she would've rather taken those bullets than you."

Her bosom heaving, tears saturating the skin of her cheeks, Angela's right hand writhed from the recoil of her strike against Booth. She hadn't intended to appear callous, however, his selfishness had aroused an agitation within her core that she hadn't perceived plausible. She'd always acknowledged to restrain her infuriation, since allowing it to be unsheathed would reciprocate in unnecessary violence. Yet, upon the mere implication of preferably desiring his death rather than Brennan's, her resolve had hastily diminished.

This was not to imply that Booths declaration had been imprudent, because it wasn't, and she could comprehend why he'd stated it. But now it was his responsibility to commence onward, to bare both the anguish and honor the privilege of having been woven within Bone's intricate life. For as long as he continued onward, the legacy and subsistence that Temperance Brennan had established would live forever.

"Angela, I'm… I'm sorry…"

Booths dismayed voice perturbed her from her mental delegation, her thoughts instantaneously retrieving focus upon him.

"Y-You're right… I sounded so selfish, I didn't mean--"

"Booth, it's okay, I should be apologizing." she interjected, her eyes ruefully perceiving the inflammation in the orientation of her hand materializing on his skin.

"I know you didn't mean to sound like that. I just kinda… snapped… but please, I must ask that you shouldn't think that."

He concurred vaguely as guilt eclipsed his features.

"I know… I should be stronger…" he replied, "I should be thankful that I have the opportunity to be alive, but I… it just doesn't seem as fulfilling cause she isn't here…"

"Oh, but she is." Angela countered, and upon observing his bewilderment, she transcended her left hand toward his chest, in the exact location where is aching heart lay.

"She's right there Booth, she'll always be." she whispered, the clarity of her words reinstating the dissipating resolve that had cultivated within him.

"And you need to be strong for her. Because somewhere, out there, there's a suspect who is responsible for her murder. And I know it is our job to go out there and get them."


	4. Chapter 4: Ignorance

**Ello my wonderful readers!! I apologize that there was no opening comment from me in the last time, it was an editing mistake with the uploading of the chapter. However, I will not permit it to happen again!! ;) **

**Yay, look at these reviews!! How marvelous! I love you guys! Thank you to those who submitted their opinions thus far; Wincing Poet, Lanababe, House Broken, Darx, Naruzomaki, and Objective Mistress. Extra kudos goes to Wincing Poet for editing help. **

**This chapter is dedicated to you. ;)**

Agent Emery comprehended the actuality that Brennan was furious with him for his callous assessment of Booth, however, he wasn't here to douse the truth with lies. For Agent Seely had provided the opportunity for his compassion toward his partner to be displayed blatantly, therefore, allowing the killer to fluently and maliciously tare her from his clutches. Emery allowed Temperance the fact that Booth couldn't always be conscious of the impending hazards that constantly pursued them. Yet, even in the circumstances that revolved about their lives outside of the FBI, there always remained the unsolicited dedication toward one another; the vowed allegiance that would guarantee their survival. And indubitably, Booth had neglected this rule, thus allowing one less layer for his killer to transcend through in hopes of reaching him.

"Earlier when you were explaining the circumstances of the case, you'd referred to the suspect as, '_they_'…" Brennan's malice tone roused the agent from his thoughts, his head impulsively deviating toward her.

"Does this implicate that you do not know exact sex of the suspect?"

An impish grin impaled his lips. She truly was a more unique, superior hue than the typical shades of anthropologists.

"Yes, it does." he replied regretfully, "However, I have reason to believe it's female."

Her brow coiled in bewilderment.

"Female?"

"Correct. All the victims we've identified were males, ranging from their 20's to 30's."

He retrieved a file from the interior of his cobalt jacket; his fingers dexterously unfolding the paper and alleviating the creases before giving it to Bones. Upon clasping it, her cerulean eyes perceived the rigid features of the first victim illustrated by the pixilated photo.

"Kevin Oliver?" she articulated monotonously, her eyes unable to veer from the page.

"Yes, first one to be killed." he reinstated, disparagement saturating his tone.

"We found Kevin's body on September 25th, 1998. A couple had been returning back to Chicago from a weekend in Vegas, when they witnessed a body tied to a post just a 100 meters off the highway. The 102 degree humidity of the Mojave desert had caused the skin tissue to melt, even though the body was already badly charred to begin with."

Brennan had been accustomed to the gruesome tendencies that supplemented homicides, however, she had to vehemently swallow back the vile that accumulated in her throat.

"The autopsy report from the Las Vegas Medical institute portrayed the phalanges of the hands amputated, as well as his gentiles. His tongue had been ripped out, and there were abrasions around his chest region indicating blows from a blunt object. We were also able to find traces of lighter fluid from his skin. According to the coroner, all this had occurred while the victim was still alive."

Temperance couldn't deter the chills that resonated across her skin.

"It appears to me that this was a very hateful crime…" she whimpered, her thoughts unable to administer how such a repulsive and mortifying means of torture could be applied to anyone.

"Perhaps it was the result of a jealous rage from a former lover?"

"A possible theory, however, according to relatives and friends, Kevin was seeing no one at the time…" Emery countered.

"What about a envious colleague? Anyone that he had previously had problems with?" she ventured once more.

"No. He was the type of guy that got along with everyone. Fair and reasonable. He was going to take over his fathers position as the CEO of The Mirage; a 3,004 room hotel, complete with casino resort."

Brennan released a vexed sigh.

"Then how about a hit put in by a jealous competitor?"

"Dr. Brennan, all these avenues have been suspected, however, none of them apply to the victim and the case." the agent retorted, attempting to be patient, despite the exasperation cascading his tone.

"The FBI thoroughly believes it was the work of a woman possibly obsessed with Mr. Oliver, even with the fact that he, as well as others, were unaware of his stalker."

The idea was credible, yet Bones acknowledged that it couldn't be proven by mere assumption. There had to be something tangible that could affiliate a psychotic, spiteful woman to execute such a appalling crime.

"I'm not intending to appear incredulous, however, how are we sure it is an obsessed woman?" she inquired, mentally preparing herself for the plausibility of a heinous, disturbing response.

"We're sure because when the authorities arrived, the phrase, '_HE'S MINE_, _EVEN IN DEATH_', was etched upon his chest."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It had required quite a lot of audacity to retrieve his colleagues and stand before them, however, he'd achieved success as Booth gazed at the ensemble of squints; their faces coiled in sorrow as the structure of lab appeared to be asphyxiating them. The sensual amber fragrance of Bone's skin still loitered in the air, while the skeletal remains upon lab tables agonized for her scrutiny. Seely involuntarily shuddered upon contemplating the thought.

"As you all know, at about 3 am last night, Doctor Temperance Brennan was pronounced dead…" Booth spoke, his words immensely fatigued by the heavy remorse that accompanied his tone.

"It's going to be hard, because Brennan influenced us all in different ways. Everyone is going to miss her presence. However, from this point onward, we must be strong."

"I hate to interrupt this speech, but I was unaware of the fact that Dr. Brennans funeral was to be hosted in the lab." Zach interjected, attempting to futilely appear humorous in order to lighten the situation.

His response was a strong slap in the arm from Angela, proceeded by agitated glares from Hodgins and Cam.

"Right…" Booth scoffed incredulously, "Look, what I'm trying to say is, there's a killer out there. They took away Brennan, murdered her, before our eyes. Our sole purpose now is to catch this bastard, and bring them to justice; just like Bones would do for us if anyone was in this predicament. Are we all on the same page?"

The group corresponded with affirmative nods, as Seely reluctantly allowed a jovial smile to grace his lips.

"Good, let's get to work." he bellowed, "Cam, go back to the bar and try to get your hands on surveillance, see if we can get a suspect off the footage. If you do, hand it off to Angela so she can compile an identity. Hodgins, Zack, accompany Cam and sweep that area with a fine tooth comb. See if you can get any particulates from the gun fired, or perhaps any traces of hair or dirt that may have been at the base of the suspects shoe."

Everyone that had been summoned aroused to action, all except Angela, who remained after Hodgins and Zack had acquired their equipment and hastily left with Cam.

"Good job Booth." she told him, "I'm proud of you for redirecting your pain toward doing something productive."

He couldn't help but faintly chuckle at her compliment.

"I'm just doing what I know Bones would do." he replied sincerely, "Besides, if we all sat around here sad any longer, nothing would be done to help solve this case."

Angela concurred, acknowledging that perhaps a subtle push would indeed allow the team to strive productively toward a goal.

"So what are you going to do then, Mr. Vengeance?" she inquired mischievously, however, the response she'd receive would have vague implication of humor.

"I'm going to the hospital. I want to see Bones one last time before she's put underground."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"But I thought the body was badly burned?" Bones interjected, her brow coiling in perplexity.

Emery replied to her inquiry with a concurring nod.

"He was. We were only able to identify him due to his dental records." he responded knowledgably, "However, we were able to find slight precipitation upon his skin…"

"… which indicated that a fire extinguisher was used to put out the fire…" Brennan concluded. "But why go through the trouble to burn someone if you're then going to just put them out?"

Emery's shoulders roused apathetically.

"Perhaps for the soul purpose of making him an etch 'n' sketch…" he attempted to add a conjuration of hilarity to the distressing array of facts, yet Brennan remained impervious.

"She wanted her message to be seen." Bones hypothesized, "It's the only explanation for why she'd burn him till he died. The fact that she'd put him somewhere he could be found exemplifies this."

"Yet why didn't she go ahead and do so while he was alive?" he implored skeptically, "She'd already put him through so much already… why not put the icing on the cake?"

"Maybe it's a sign of love…" she ventured once more, disregarding the dubiousness that tainted his features. "She obviously cared about him. It was a proclamation. Yes, she'd punished him for some unknown reason, yet, she still had enough compassion for him not to be burned to ashes. The woman wanted the world to know that."

The agent scoffed at the heinousness of the scenario, and couldn't even begin to fathom how ignorantly delusional this suspect must be. _I suppose she wanted everyone to know that she was, "merciful"….._

"It does make sense…" he admitted, though he wasn't quite sure who he was attempting convince more. "It explains the orientation of the other victims that were found…"

"Agent, were you able to find any follicles of hair? Or perhaps anything else that could identify the suspect?" she requested, any traces of hope she had accumulated now diminishing upon the sway of his rueful head.

"We'd found a single strand of brown hair, and a trail of tire marks that'd lead to an abandoned warehouse where the torture was conducted…" he replied, "However, Oliver worked with numerous brunettes that drove jeep liberty's. All had alibi's and no awareness of where that place was."

Her agitation regarding the circumstances caused her to curse.

"So your investigation yielded nothing?"

"No, but we didn't have as long to work on it as we would've liked…" he responded despairingly, "For after two months into Kevin's murder, she had killed the second victim."

___________________________________________________________________________________

"Booth, are you sure you're ready for that?" Angela inquired anxiously, disregarding the imprudence that supplement the question.

This wasn't to say that Booth couldn't handle the observation of a dead body. For in all actuality, he worked alongside them daily, solving their cases and retrieving the suspects liable for their deaths. However, none of these victims were Brennan, the woman that he'd developed admiration and love toward. She acknowledged that even the most vigorous of men, including Seely himself, would deteriorate upon gazing at their now deceased lovers. It was a anguish that no mans heart could tolerate.

Booth's broad shoulders merely shrugged.

"Probably not…" he replied honestly, "But I just… can't shake off the need to see her. I miss her Angela. Dead or not, I want to say good-bye."

She responded with a comprehending nod.

"I understand…" she told him, her body moving forward as she embraced his muscular frame.

"Go do what you have to. I'll hold down the fort, and notify you if anything develops."

He released a weary sigh, kissing her forehead in appreciation of her compassion as he unwove himself from the embrace and began to stride out of the lab.

As she observed him leave, Angela ascended her arms upward to wrap about her waist; her lips forming a sympathetic smile she acknowledged he couldn't see.

"Put in a good word for me too Booth…"

**Yes. This chapter is very short, I admit. However, I'm not in the greatest mood currently. Read and review. I am open to praise just as equally as I am criticism, as log as it is NOT flaming. Thanks loves.**


	5. Authors Note

**Dear Readers,**

**Something that has been constantly brought to my attention in the past 12 hours would be the context of my vocab. As I stated last chapter, I am open to criticism. I don't enjoy it, but then again, all the harsh things that make you stronger, aren't often the nicest things you'll ever hear. And it's disheartening, I'll admit. I thought I had been improving with the last chapter, but apparently, I'm still WAY off.**

**Now this is not a note to diss all those who provided the criticism. I'm not that type of person, and it'd be childish to retort back in the means of an authors note. Like honestly? Not in high school anymore. **

**Rather, the purpose for this is to make a promise: I promise to you, my audience, that I'll improve. I realize that I'm jumping the boat in an effort to make myself look smarter; yet it's only reflecting my arrogance at how much it's truly ruining the story. And honestly, that is not my intended affect. I want to provide you this story because it's a good idea; and why not share something regarding the common interest, which is Bones, that we can all love? **

**I apologize if I have given offense to anyone, but mainly, I apologize if my writing style has ruined the experience for those expecting a terrific tale. I promise thinks will get better. If not, then I'll simply pull the story from the site all together. You have my word. **

**So hopefully, by next chapter, there'll be little complaints. And if that means me having to slave away longer to please you, the audience, then it'll be done. **

**I write for you guys. You ALL are my inspiration. Please stay with me on this. I promise you won't be disappointed.**

**Sincerely,**

**PYB.**


	6. Chapter 5: Crawling

**Greeting readers! I apologize for the wait. My college English and Communications classes have kept me quite busy. That, and I honestly wanted to take my time with this chapter. I took into consideration a lot of what your reviews said, so I pray that I have satisfied some of the issues. I hope that you enjoy the chapter, and I hope for some of you it is a fulfillment of my promise. I apologize ahead of time if it is not. **

**Please read on and enjoy.**

Agent Seely Booth sat in his Black SUV; his fingers prattling the rhythm of his frantic heart beat upon the steering wheels surface, his chocolate eyes gazing toward a translucent world. Though he hadn't recently checked his watch, it appeared that it'd been hours since he'd left the lab; his heart resolute with the will to see Brennan one last time. Yet as he sat in the leather exterior, the keys idle within the ignition, the subtle purr of the engine eloping the atmosphere, he couldn't bring himself to move. Every time his right foot crawled toward the petal, a hasty interjection of his nerves stopped the movement. Mentally his soul ached in disparity to see her gorgeous, alabaster skin. But physically, his body coiled in disdain upon the thought and remained obstinate.

Either way, he feared he'd be trapped forever in the desolate, eerie chambers of the parking garage.

"_Come on Seely_…" he whispered to himself, retracting his left hand and grazing away the sweat that had accumulated upon his brow. "This is Bones… the woman you love. You _owe _it to her to say goodbye…"

Releasing a vexed sigh, he placed his hand back upon the steering wheel, once more advancing his foot toward the gas petal with renewed confidence. _Are you sure you can do this Seely Booth? _his thoughts inquired, his rasped breath catching in his throat.

_She died in your arms… you couldn't even save her. _

Infuriatingly he shook his head.

"No, I tried!" he retorted, slightly incredulous of the fact he was arguing with himself in his car.

_But you couldn't do enough… you hesitated too much._

"_**I didn't**_! I applied pressure to the wound!! I got Hodgins to call 911---"

_And the worst is, you didn't even tell her you loved her before she took her last breath…_

_ "SHUT UP!!" _he bellowed, tears erupting from his eyes and cascading down his cheeks, charring his subtle skin. Releasing an agitated growl, his hands began to bludgeon the steering wheel until he could feel the blood emitting from his knuckles.

_That's right. Feel the pain, you coward. Feel what you couldn't save Temperance from…_

_ "__**STOP IT**__!! __**SHUT THE FUCK UP**__!!!"_

At this point, blood was draped upon the wheels surface; the windows had glazed over due to the agonized shrieking; and any trace of feeling Seely once had in his hands dissipated. It was only upon the antagonizing pain seething from his writs through his arms that Boot abruptly halted his tantrum; his lungs heaving as sluices ignited within his throat. His body writhed for air, his fingers were incarcerated by agony and saturated in blood, yet all his thoughts could do was weave a despondent mantra in his head.

_I did all I could, I did all I could, I did all I could, I did all I could…._

However, deep within the complex layers of his heart did he acknowledge one vitally significant fact.

_….I didn't do enough…._

* * *

"So, you're _positive_ you didn't see anyone suspicious?" Cam questioned for what appeared to be the trillionth time.

While Hodgins and Zach meticulously searched the premises, the pathologist had brought it upon herself to be resourceful and gather any significant information for Booth. However, her attempts were proving futile since the bartender she'd been interviewing appeared oblivious to atmosphere beyond his counter.

"Nope. Sorry." he replied, yet his tone didn't contain one ounce of remorse. He commenced to stroke his area with a cloth indifferently, the immense, pungent odor of the cleaning acids igniting her nostrils with a ravenous fury.

"You sure? No one posing as a threat, or perhaps dressed in overly bagging clothing, that could perhaps conceal a weapon, didn't come to the bar?" she pried once more, her only response to be an exasperated glare from the young brunette.

"Look, weirdo's come in here _all_ the time." he told her truthfully, "Some dress in too much, some don't wear enough, but they all come here for a drink, then head back out to have a good time. I honestly didn't see anyone here with cruel intentions."

Heaving a defeated sigh, Cam thanked the bartender for his time and pivoted on her heels; her stride directed toward the two lab aids vehemently inspecting the stage.

"Find anything?" she inquired, Hodgins halting his movement and gazing toward her as Zack kept on.

"No…" he told her ruefully. "All we've found are blood spatters, which I'm pretty sure are Brennan's."

She cursed quietly under her breath upon his answer.

"_Shit_. No particulates from the gun?"

"No. We'd only be able to find those from the area in which the gun was shot." came Zack's reply, his tone appearing monotonous as his thoughts still lingered upon the task of discovering evidence.

_of course…_Cam thought to herself dismally. The particulates would help at least establish a position from which the suspect fired the gun, and perhaps yield the type. However, the bullets would most likely allow a more plausible solution, which she was certain Booth could obtain upon his visit at the hospital. _Speaking of which_…

"Has anyone heard from Booth since we left?"

Both men gazed at each other expectantly in hopes that the other had information regarding the question. Yet by the bewilderment eclipsing their features, Cam could already speculate that indeed, there had been no communication following the lab meeting. This of course, induced nothing but anxiety upon her. She acknowledged that Booth had appeared stolid and strong, yet it was only a façade. For she could see the grimace that coiled his features, as well as the conjuration of agitation and sorrow, that formed within his eyes upon the mere mention of her name. Seely was hurting, but all be damned if anyone would be a witness to his pain.

"I was wondering…." Hodgins contemplative voice spoke, rousing the pathologist from her thoughts.

"Where were the wounds on Brennan exactly?"

" She was shot in her pectoralis major and serratus anterior." Zach answered, a wave of pride cascading his frame upon being so prompt.

"_Ah_… _that's right_…" Hodgins muttered, and Cam observed an unknown realization dawn upon his features.

"Looks like you've got a theory." she spoke, and she couldn't help but jovially grin upon seeing his head nod enthusiastically.

"Okay, those shots Brennan received? They _had_ to be from a higher level."

Cams brow coiled pensively.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I recall that while Booth was aiding her, his hands were very close to her clavicle, if not right beneath. Furthermore, the stomach wound in the serratus, was a lower abdominal wound…"

"Meaning….?" Zach interjected confused, however, Cam was able to fill in the blanks before Hodgins could.

"Meaning that if the shooter had been on the same level as Brennan, both of those wounds would've been higher on the body, because that'd indicate they would've been looking up at her."

Cam allowed Hodgins a appreciative grin.

"You _are_ good."

The entomologist smiled impishly and shrugged his shoulders.

"It is why I am known as the King of the Lab."

"Okay, so now that we've discovered the shooter had to be on a higher level, where exactly would this be?" Zach asked, somewhat annoyed by Hodgins ridiculous title for himself.

"Well, my dear apprentice, why don't you just look up?"

* * *

"I have to admit, fast food _does_ have its perks…" Booth mumbled to himself, the fingers of his right hand gingerly grazing the pathetic material of the Wendy's napkin fastened tightly about his knuckles.

It had taken him two hours, however, upon gathering his thoughts, Seely had managed to arrive at the hospital. His weary heart still beat, his thoughts continued to scrutinize and interpret all he perceived, yet still… to the naked eye, no one was capable of witnessing the creases that glazed his skin. Although he tried, Booth couldn't hide the turmoil that perspired from his pores. And though he wore his façade well, he acknowledged that once his chocolate eyes saw the alabaster hue of Brennan's once elegant skin, it'd all dissolve as quickly as it'd appeared.

Bewildered and concerned gazes coiled about him as he strode down the tragically familiar hallway, yet he continued onward regardless. It was indeed ludicrous, what he was doing. However, it was the only remedy that could provide solace, which his soul mentally and physically, desired.

The operating room was within his vision now, and his agonized and exhausted legs strode toward it desperately. His wounded hands would've clasped the handles, had it not been for a gentle grasp upon his shoulder.

"_Agent Booth_?" a voice questioned, and upon pivoting, his eyes bore into the perplexed hazel orbs of Doctor Ramsey.

"The nurses had spoke of you coming here, and I hurried as quickly as I could to meet you. Is everything alright?"

"Hi doc." Seely replied politely, even though anxiety and impatience plagued his tone.

"I'm okay. I'm just here to see Temperance Brennan's body…"

* * *

Upon the suggestion, the forensic aide and pathologist gazed upward; their features quickly foiling in astonishment. Above them lingered the high-rise, a plateau composed of metal and fixtures of light to illuminate the world below in all it's clarity.

"_Of course_…" Cam whispered, "It'd be perfect for anyone wanting to make a shot. High above the crowd, masked by darkness--"

"Followed with an opportune escape route." Zach concluded, his eyes proceeding to follow the iron shafts that disappeared back into the corridors of the building.

"I'd say that anyone who works here would have access up there…" Hodgins hypothesized. "So it wouldn't be unsafe to suggest that perhaps our killer could be an employee."

Cam agreed with a vague nod, her gaze descending from the high-rise and focusing back upon her colleagues.

"Okay, new game plan." she spoke, and upon her authoritative tone comprised of resolve, both men gazed at her attentively.

"Hodgins, Zach, I want you both up there scraping the scene for evidence. Look for finger prints, gun residue, _anything_, that can provide a possible identification for our killer. I'm going to go talk to the manager and get a list of employees who have access to high-rise. I'm also gonna try to see if any cameras are up there."

Upon receiving coessential nods, Cam pivoted on her heels and strode off to locate the manager; allowing the men to gather themselves and their equipment as Zach shuddered apprehensively.

"Would it be considered irrelevant if I was to mention I was uncomfortable with heights?" Zach asked, his tone saturated with dread.

Hodgins chuckled faintly as he gazed mischievously at his unenthusiastic partner.

"I think you can manage just this once. Do it for Doctor Brennan."

* * *

"She'd already killed a victim two months after Mr. Oliver?" Brennan inquired incredulously, her cerulean eyes gazing at the pixilated victim below Kevin's picture.

"Yes." Emery replied, "His name was Roger Albany. He was 26 years old, and was a corporate manager of the Better Business Bureau in Dallas, Texas. His father had just retired, and had left the responsibility to his son."

Temperance's brow coiled in astonishment.

"Dallas is quite a ways from Los Angeles…" she spoke, her eyes scrutinizing the pixels that portrayed the handsome features of Mr. Albany.

"The killer must've been quite adaptable in regards to shifting about."

Emery concurred with a vague nod.

"Indeed. The killer is very intelligent and diligent. And apparently would have to be very wealthy to accommodate the necessary changes." he replied, his tone slightly reverent.

"Was he too found in the same manner of Mr. Oliver?"

"Yes. His tongue, fingers, and genitalia had been amputated. Abrasions and scaring upon his chest was also found, from a blunt object, and perhaps a blade of some sort. However, this time, he wasn't burnt. Rather, his body had been literally smashed."

Temperance couldn't help but grimace repulsively.

"Define, "smashed"." she ventured, hesitance apparent within her tone, and perhaps a taint of fear at what the answer could possibly be.

"Think of a car being impounded to gain scrap metal…"

The response resulted in Brennan desperately swallowing the vile sluices accumulating in her throat.

"How was this done, and where was the body found?"

"The killer choose a scrap yard to perform the execution, located about 10 miles from the bureau. Mr. Albany had been tied down to the roof of 2005 sedan. From there, his anatomical parts were amputated, and the physical beating followed after. It was while his body was going into shock, that the suspect had used a crane to drop an Ford F-150 upon the victim."

He paused upon observing a paler hue spread across Brennan's alabaster skin, realizing that this must've been the most disturbing and complex components of a case she'd ever witnessed. This, of course, was not to imply that she hadn't dealt with lesser, psychotic criminals. However, he acknowledged that perhaps the reason why these facts were so horrifying was due to the actuality that Booth could possibly become just as the naive and successful victims; violated, tortured, and then killed without compassion or mercy. It was too much of an agonized thought for anyone to comprehend their loved ones going through.

"_How_… _how could anyone be so cruel_…?" her voice barely breached the level of a whisper, the bitter taste of bile staining her words.

"Did all the victims suffer this way?"

Emery replied with a despondent nod.

"Yes. Now you understand the circumstances of this case…" he told her hopefully, "I know you find it wrong to lie about your health, however, it is in the benefit of protecting agent Booth. For now that the killer has eliminated one obstacle, they'll continue onward; slicing through each barricade until they reach him. And it is upon that opportune moment that we hope to catch this woman once and for all."

She was about to respond, yet a loud, annoying vibration echoed from his pocket. Sighing agitatedly, Emery quickly reached toward his pants to retrieve his cell phone, which he'd been positive he'd silenced.

"_Yes_?" he growled, and Brennan noticed his infuriation escalate as an unidentified voice grumbled through the receiver.

"_**Damn it**_! I knew this would happen. Listen to me, do _**not**_ let him anywhere near this room!" his voice thundered, and Bone's swore she could feel the room tremble at his tone.

"If he so much as even _**see's**_ her, this mission could be jeopardized! I don't care what you tell him, but _**don't let him near this area**_!!"

She involuntarily jumped as he hastily snapped his cell shut, his right hand reaching upward and pinching the bridge between his eyebrows as he continued to heave vexed breaths.

"_Is there a problem_?" she asked, knowledgeable that perhaps that could've been the most ridiculous question to propose at this point.

Paled, emerald eyes veering toward her, his retort came as a distorted snarl.

"**Yes. It seems your partner Booth would like to see your body**."

**Okay, so here we are met with a junction. You as the readers, can decide. Shall we let Booth see Brennan? Or shall he be denied? Will a fake funeral take place? Or will Brennan's survival allow her to reunite with the squints and solve the case? **

**It tis all in your hands, my dearest readers. I'll go for whatever is decided by the majority. **

**Hope you've enjoyed the read. I love you all.**


	7. Chapter 6: You Found Me

" How are you holding up there Zach?" Hodgins asked mischievously, his cobalt eyes watching in amusement as his colleague nervously followed behind him.

"I believe the question you are proposing is not born of concern, but rather, to humiliate me upon my fear of heights." came his exasperated retort, resulting in the entomologist to simply shake his head and laugh.

Of course, this was not to imply that he, the _King_ himself, wasn't horrified about being this high up; for the anxiety that plagued them both was justified. The high-rise would subtly sway at an unknown breeze, as well as groan in agonizing protest upon every apprehensive step. However, with absolute resolve forged in his heart for avenging Brennan, Hodgins assured himself he'd be perfectly fine. Unfortunately, Zach had been far to concerned with trying to retain his dignity, rather than conquering his fear for the sake of their deceased colleague.

"Oh come on now Zachy, I do _too _care!" Hodgins replied, his tone portraying his offense. "You're just upset that _I _can handle my fear better than you."

This roused a scoff from his assistant.

"Yes, because you have _such_ a deep comprehension of the male ego…" Zach grumbled, however, his retort had gone unnoticed by Hodgins.

The entomologists movement had abruptly stopped upon reaching the furthest edge of the high-rise; already acknowledging that, without a doubt, it was the precise location from which the suspect fired the gun.

"Okay, this _has_ to be it." he spoke, immediately kneeling down as Zach observed from behind.

"I agree. This spot gives opportune view for a shot…" he responded, his chocolate eyes following Hodgins meticulous movement as he retrieved a swab and anesthetic from his case.

"Furthermore, the dark provides an excellent cover. No one from below would've ever noticed anything happening."

While Zach had been deliberating to himself aloud, Hodgins diligently continued on about his task. Removing a cotton swab from the interior of his lab suit, he gingerly sprayed the anesthetic liquid upon the metal railing encasing the platform. The particles clasping to the surface, he extended the swab forward, and very tediously, began stroking the cotton about the moist area methodically.

"_The dark may hide the face_…" Hodgins whispered, retracting carefully the swab from the rail after cleansing it for a few minutes. He'd signaled vaguely to Zach indicating the illumination from the flash light they'd brought, and ever so prompt, his colleague obliged the request.

Tainting the white surface were small, gray particulates, as well as a single strand of dark, auburn hair.

"_**But it always betrays the killer**_…"

* * *

"If he so much as even _**see's**_ her, this mission could be jeopardized! I don't care what you tell him, but _**don't let him near this area**_!!"

With a weary and exasperated sigh, Dr. Ramsey hung up the phone from within the operating chamber; his thoughts turbulent in regards to approaching Booth. He acknowledged the horridness of deceiving the poor man, who himself already was devastated. However, such virtuousness would place Leo's career in jeopardy, one that he'd worked toward and dedicated his life to. What was a man with a conscious plagued by greed to do?

"_Come on Leo_, _you __**know**__ in your heart it's wrong_…" he whispered to himself, his right hand raising upward to stroke the gray, facial hair of his chin.

"_But that agent has your life within his grasp. One false move, and he'll pull the ground right out from beneath you_…"

Upon the thought, he merely shook his head in disbelief, chuckling faintly at the fact that he'd been trying to rationalize with himself. But he knew all the coaxing and persuading from his conscious would be futile, for the choice had already been made. And though it greatly agonized him, there was no other possible option: he'd have to lie.

Inhaling an encouraging breath, he gathered himself and strode out of the operating room; his hazel eyes falling upon Booth whose body rigidly leaned upon the wall a few meters away. Even from a distance, Ramsey could see the grave apprehension that eclipsed Seely's handsome features.

"Ah, I apologize for making you wait." the doctor told him, doing his best to keep his tone optimistic, even though he himself was aware of the imminent, bitter curve the conversation would soon take.

"I had to check with some colleagues on a few things…"

Booth merely roused his shoulders indifferently.

"That's fine doc." he replied. "Am I in the clear to see her?"

The doctors breath caught, and he desperately struggled to retain the vile accumulating his throat. Although he tried to remain poised, he couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the agent. The way Seely's chocolate eyes scrutinized him, it appeared that the lie was already perspiring through his pores; visible, tangible, and pungently reeking for all to behold and absorb.

"I…I am afraid that is not possible, Agent Booth." he spoke remorsefully, immediately witnessing the sorrow seethe within the texture of the agents face.

"Why… Why is that?" Booth whimpered, his tone feeble and agonized due to the ever so abundant negativity suffocating his life.

"Well, by regulation, you are not a relative of Brennan. Furthermore, she is not a missing persons, so viewing her body would be pointless."

With each word, Ramsey observed Seely's soul deteriorate; the syllables context too heavy to bare. "_No_…_no_…" the agent whispered, infuriation and malice immediately saturating his voice.

"That _cannot _be it. Anyone who is a friend or relative, is capable of seeing the body. There are little regulations prohibiting that."

Seely's head snapped impulsively upward, resulting in Ramsey to swallow nervously and take a step back.

"_Something isn't right here_…" Booth growled, his muscular frame shifting as he advanced toward the doctor.

"You _**know**_ something that I don't…. _don't you_?"

Though Ramsey had tried to gingerly maneuver away from the now agitated agent, his attempts were pointless. His body had been plastered against the wall, with Booths rasped breaths charring the skin of his nose and lips.

"You better start talking, **now**." Seely snarled, his fingers coiling so deeply within his hands, that the bandaging applied to stop the emission of blood from his knuckles began to deteriorate.

"**Or **_**so**_** help me, **_**you're**_** gonna be the patient needing surgery**."

* * *

"So let me get this straight…" Jerry's incredulous voice questioned, his bewildered, chocolate eyes gazing toward a very calm Cam.

"You're saying that one of my employees killed Doctor Brennan?"

The pathologist wearily sighed, her thoughts quite exasperated by the immediate assumption that came with every given fact. It was if every probable suspect had to go through some sort of pity inducing charade, until the evidence had rendered their pretences useless and offered a warrant for their arrest. Had Temperance's death never occurred, perhaps Cam would find herself playing along with such a well scripted melodrama. However, the circumstances were personal, and every shred of compassion deteriorated upon sympathetic facades from suspects, including the Checker Box manager himself.

"It's a possibility." she spoke, concealing her increasing impatience by folding her arms about her chest.

"Therefore, I'll need a list of names for all those who have access to the high-rise."

Jerry vehemently nodded and began sorting through his files.

"Of course. I believe that only three of my employees work the lighting and so forth…" he told her, an impish smile gracing his lips once he came upon the employer records. He hastily extended it toward her from his desk as Cam retrieved it appreciatively and absorbed the information before her.

"Jason is away on vacation, and has been since last week…" Jerry began, which narration the pathologist found routine as she obediently committed the data to memory.

"So either Stacy or Andrew would've been here last night."

Cam's brow raised in perplexity.

"_Either_ Stacy or Andrew?"

"Yes. Stacy is a part time college student, so she can't always pick up the shifts. When she can't, Andrew fills in. They've devised their own little system. Either way, regardless of who is on the schedule, one of them will work it."

Cam nodded vaguely in understanding and was about to make another inquiry, yet the intrusion of Hodgins and Zach within the managers office abruptly stopped the notion.

"Cam, what I'm about to show you reinforces my King status." the entomologist exclaimed elatedly.

"And in all due respect, since I helped, I am endowed 50% of that title." Zach added, neglecting the incredulous gaze that Hodgins shot toward him.

"_Just because you held the flashlight_?"

"_And _provided the plastic bag to store the evidence in."

"That is the biggest load of---"

"You found evidence!?" Cam interjected, successfully quelling the impending feud and redirecting their attention toward the case.

"What'd you find?"

"Well, first off, we found the location from which the suspect fired the gun." Hodgins began, and pivoting on his heels, he hastily sauntered Zach, Cam, and Jerry out of the office and back onto the main floor.

"That corner is directly adjacent from the stage, thus allowing a perfect cover of darkness for the shooter, as well as excellent precision."

Cams eyes veered toward the implied area, immediately agreeing that the location was indeed the perfect stage to commit murder.

"Furthermore…" Zach continued, "…We were able to find particulates from the fired gun. We have reason to believe it was a SOCOM 45, and hopefully, the bullets will match once we receive them from Booth or the hospital."

As if Cam's jovial grin wasn't wide enough from the accumulating data, Hodgins further sweetened the deal.

"_Plus_, we found a strand of brown hair. _**That means the shooter was female**_."

* * *

Upon the mere mention of Booths name, Brennan's breath caught. Though she acknowledged the fact that allowing Seely access to see her would impede Emery's objectives, she couldn't help but yearn for him to miraculously stride through the door. He was her partner, her sword and shield, her support that never failed to stand by her amidst the turbulence of chaos and peril. Furthermore, she was quite certain that even if he was to become knowledgeable upon her still prevailing existence, they'd undoubtedly overcome the odds. They always did.

Therefore, she felt obliged to relay her thoughts constituted of agony and desperation toward Emery, in prospect that perhaps he'd pity her and allow Booth admittance.

"Emery, please…" Brennan whimpered, her cobalt eyes gazing toward him in desolation. "Please let me see my partner."

Emery's pacifying fingers descended from his face, as his paled, emerald eyes absorbed the sorrow that seemed to radiate from Temperance's exhausted body. He yearned to be able to do such benevolence onto her, to allow that compassion and elation that only Booth could provide. However, he couldn't, and it was not his intention to do so with callous purposes. It was to be done in the hopes of ensuring Booth's safety, so that she herself wouldn't have to bare the anguish of loosing him to such a sadistically vile murderer.

With a weary sigh, he dismally shook his head.

"Doctor Brennan, you know I cannot permit that." he spoke, observing with remorse the fragility of her hope diminish with every uttered syllable.

"It'll put both of your lives in danger."

"_But how_!? _Why_?!" she retorted, adamant in allowing her goal not to simply be disregarded and conquered.

"Him seeing me _won't_ put us in danger!! The suspect thinks I'm dead anyways!"

"They'll realize you're alive the minute he sees you and his temperament changes!!" Emery bellowed, and the immense accumulation of agitation within his tone quelled her into silence.

"Listen, the suspect is an _excellen_t stalker of their prey. And now that they know you're dead, they'll carefully scrutinize Booth's behavior and movements. They won't hesitate to move closer, to be the shoulder to cry on, even though they so indigenously took it away. They could be here, right now, following him, watching from a distance!"

Though she was able to comprehend his theory as tangible, Brennan still refused to surrender to logic. She wanted to see Booth. And she would, even if she had to agonizingly crawl all the way back to the Jeffersonian just to witness his astonished smile the minute he saw her.

"_Even if_ they knew, we could still catch them!" she countered, neglecting the infuriation that appeared to elate upon her continued obstinacy.

"_We can beat the odds_! _Booth and I __**always**__ do_!"

"These are _**different **_circumstances, Dr. Brennan! You're dealing with a completely diverse type of killer!"

Temperance once more was prepared to rebuttal, however, perturbed shrieks of protest eloping the atmosphere abruptly dismissed the argument. As she lay paralyzed in her bed, the pulsation of her heart bludgeoning within her ears, Emery unsheathed his gun and hastily gravitated to the door. Allowing himself an encouraging breath, he audaciously extended his hand forward to clasp the door handle, only to impulsively jump once it came swinging open.

Temperance screamed in horror as Doctor Ramsey's body came hurling through the door frame; the elderly man groaning in disdain as he impacted the cold floor. Attempting to collect himself, Ramsey gingerly arouse from the concrete, his hazel eyes deviating toward Emery with remorse as his chest heaved, body quivering.

"_I-I'm sorry Emery_… _he couldn't be stopped_…" he stuttered, the agent quickly materializing at his side and helping Leo to his feet.

"Once he knew Brennan was alive, he became like an _enraged_ animal…"

Emery's features coiled in bewilderment.

"_He_?" he inquired, yet realization dawned upon him once his emerald eyes gazed toward the door.

There, within the door way, stood an agonized and astonished Booth, his chocolate eyes widened incredulously as he observed a very much alive Brennan.

"_**B-Bones**_….?"

**TA-DA! And there you have it folks. Booth finally sees Bones. What happens on from here? You'll find out. Happy Thanksgiving you guys! I'll try to have another chapter soon. Much love! J**


	8. Chapter 7: Vanilla Twilight

Booth found himself struggling with a difficult conjuration of emotions. At the moment, he mostly felt agitated. He was infuriated that both the agent and the doctor had initiated such a intricate lie in order to prevent himself, as well as the rest of the squints, access to Brennan. Yet at the same time, he oddly perceived the hint of relief, perhaps even joy, due to the fact that such a lie had established Temperance as being very much alive. So with both sides equally comprised of good and bad points, what was he to feel? Before he could even begin to weigh the options, Agent Emery's anger roused him from his thoughts.

"**Agent Booth**, **it is **_**not**_** within your jurisdiction to be here**." Emery growled, his body shifting in a protective stance before both the doctor and Brennan, his emerald eyes narrowed in exasperation.

"**I must ask that you leave**. _**Now**_."

This provoked an incredulous scoff from Booth's frame.

"_Yeah_, _like that's gonna happen_…" he retorted in just as menacing snarl as his opponent.

"My partner is sitting there alive and well. And guess _what _pal? _**She's my responsibility**_. Therefore, I have _all_ the right to be here."

Brennan's features coiled in disdain upon being labeled as a , _responsibility_, for Booth, yet she didn't get to proclaim such annoyance since Emery quickly went on the offense.

"I'm afraid that is not the case anymore, Seely." the agent spat venomously. "Due to your inability to protect Doctor Brennan, she's been **reassigned **to me."

Silence eloped the room then, since the audience that had been witnessing such a disparaging display was wrought with shock, especially both Booth and Brennan. Of course, it would be unfair to make any sort of assumption as to who was hurt more by the syllables context. However, if the judgment was to be made simply by observation, the person most distraught would be Booth. He stood rigidly, his chocolate eyes widened, accompanied by a slackened jaw and agape lips.

"_That_… _That __**cannot **__be_…" he stuttered, "That'd never be authorized! It was me that got Brennan out into the field in the first place!!"

"Which has been ruled as the primary reason for why she is here now." Emery countered, a gratified grin coiling his lips upon seeing Booth grasp for words to justify himself.

"You were doing your job well Booth, I'll give you that. It is indeed you that has kept the brilliant doctor alive thus far. However, after last nights little mishap, it has been decided that Brennan needs a better protector. One that will not dangle her before an audience, waiting for her to get shot."

"_I didn't know that'd happen_!!" Booth bellowed, his anguished tone betraying him as guilt was evident in his words.

"If I did, I wouldn't have allowed it!! I would've been the one to get shot instead!!"

"Yet that's not the case now, is it!?" Emery's condescending tone thundered, his intent to go straight for the heart and finish his adversary off.

"Brennan is a very valuable asset to the FBI. To loose her would mean a heightened percentage of criminals once more taking siege on the streets of Washington. Therefore, it is justified that I am being brought in to protect her, and bring the suspected killer in. Cullen wouldn't have made the choice if it wasn't for the best."

That simple fragment woven with arrogance and patronization was all it took for Booth to be rendered breathless. _Cullen_ had authorized this? _How_? _Why_? This had to be some sort of conspiracy that this Emery character had conceived and filtered into Cullen. Yes, that had to be it…for the mere concept of Brennan no longer being his accomplice in capturing psychotic criminals, was entirely asinine.

However, this suspicion aroused the desperation to know as to why Cullen would take Emery's word. Had he truly been deemed as inferior, and incapable of protecting Temperance? Hadn't Cullen known Booth long enough to develop a concrete bond of trust? And worse still, why was the world suddenly shifting, leaving him with no ground to obtain footing?

"_You've ran out of arguments Booth_…" Emery taunted, his arms weaving before his chest in triumph as he happily absorbed Seely's helplessness.

"**There's nothing left to say. Now leave, before I have someone escort you**."

* * *

"Back so soon?" Angela asked bewildered, yet excitement appeared laced within her tone.

Cam, Hodgins and Zach strode toward her within her office, each of their features eclipsed by elation and success.

"_Yup_, we found some evidence at the Checker Box." the entomologist told her, and to emphasize this statement, he placed the plastic zip lock bag upon the desk before her containing the dark, auburn strand of hair.

Angela's hands enthusiastically clasped the evidence and held it up in the light, her chocolate eyes absorbing the glorifying detail of the thread as if it was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen.

"_Excellent_!" she spoke, a jovial grin gracing her lips. "So what are our thoughts here?"

"We're thinking the shooter was a woman." Cam stated, easing the pressure off her weary feet as she sat herself upon the edge of Angela's desk.

"And they'd shot Brennan from the furthest corner on the high-rise, which was directly adjacent with the stage. Only two employees had access, and one of them is _definitely_ a female."

"Furthermore, the particulates we discovered at the scene suggest it was a SOCOM 45 that the shooter used…" Zach continued promptly. "This should be proven by the bullets that Booth brought back from the hospital…"

Descending the bag from above her, Angela vaguely shook her head as her eyes became focused upon her colleagues.

"Afraid I wouldn't be able to agree with you on that one. Booth hasn't come back yet." she replied despondently, observing immediately the excitement drain from the surrounding squints expressions.

"He's been gone for almost three hours now…"

Upon that statement, horror began to resonate within Cams chocolate eyes.

"_Oh god_… he's probably killed a doctor or something…" she whimpered, and though her tone was grave, Zach couldn't help but faintly chuckle at her words. However, his amusement was abruptly stopped once Hodgins punched him in the arm.

"_But why_? They'd let him see Temperance's body wouldn't they?" Angela asked, vehemently containing her laughter upon witnessing Zach's pain.

"You never know. A celebrity with that much publicity might be placed under a investigation above our jurisdiction." Hodgins theorized aloud, causing his companions to shift anxiously.

Each was aware of Booths venomous rage, especially when the circumstances involved Brennan. If the FBI agent had indeed been denied visitation, then it wasn't unsafe to speculate that the hospital was perhaps consumed in ravenous chaos. Furthermore, it was highly probable that Booth would also be inconsolable and remain obstinate unless he got to observe his love one last time.

"_How about_…_I go check up on him_?" Angela audaciously ventured, arousing the astonished gazes of her colleagues around her.

"_You sure_? I could go with you if need be…" Cam offered, however, she was hastily denied by a prompt shake of the head.

"No, you're needed here. You can gather up the suspects for questioning…" the artists insisted, rousing from her seat and quickly gathering her purse and jacket.

"Plus, Hodgins and Zach can analyze things. I'm useless unless I have a face to build. _Trust me_, _I can handle this_."

* * *

Though it distressed him, Agent Emery had spoken the truth: Booth was indeed out of arguments. And by just witnessing that condescending grin plastered upon the agents lips, he was knowledgeable of it too. Heaving a vexed sigh, Seely's chocolate eyes descended toward the floor, his thoughts turbulent. _What could he do_? What words could possibly be spoken to verify his right to protect Brennan, none the less, be her partner? By all regulations within his jurisdiction, Emery did indeed have leverage upon him. However, if it was one thing his opponent was naïve of, it was of his stubborn demeanor; _agent Seely Booth __**would not**__, and __**could not**__, leave unless he got to talk to Temperance himself_.

His resolve revived, his head impulsively snapped upward, his brow coiled malevolently.

"You may have me with your **damn **words…" he growled, his fists coiling at his sides. "_But you don't have the strength to make me move._ I'm not going _**anywhere **_Emery."

This roused a scoff from the agent, his features cascaded with incredulousness.

"_Ooh, I don't_?" Emery retorted, his paled, emerald eyes narrowed toward Seely.

"I guess you just don't get it. I'll have to escort you out of here myself."

When his words provoked no movement from Booth, he promptly began to unfasten the buttons of his cobalt jacket. He immediately unwove the fabric from his muscular frame once the last button came undone, and he effortlessly discarded the material upon the floor. As he began to roll up the sleeves of his white, collared shirt, his arrogant grin never faltered from his lips.

"_You sure you wanna do this Seely_? _You wanna be humiliated before your partner_?" Emery taunted, finally coiling the receded cotton fabric about his elbows as his arms became tensed at his sides.

Once more, Booth remained silent, resulting in the agent to gradually become irked by the lack of foreplay from his opponent. Emery took it as it apprehensiveness toward the impending fight, yet Temperance knew better. Booth wasn't one to relentlessly belittle his opponents, for words were irrelevant at this stage. A language only translatable by swift thrusts of the fist were the most effective means of communication, and Booth was excellent at emphasizing his beliefs in such a manner. It was just unfortunate that Emery would have to learn this the hard way.

Temperance observed with slight amusement as Emery advanced toward her partner, his stride saturated with confidence. However, as the agents hand extended forward and situated itself upon Booths shoulder, an invisible trigger had been activated: Seely roused promptly on the offense. Clasping Emery's forearm, his knee ascended upward and bludgeoned the agent in the abdomen, causing the young man to groan in agony. Taking advantage of the inflicted distraction, Booth commenced to drop his elbow upon Emery's head, a gratified smile gracing his lips once he felt the agents body slacken. He quickly decided to end the disparaging display by hoisting the man upward and launching him over his shoulder; the satisfying shriek of the wooden table behind Booth collapsing due to Emery's weight.

He pivoted on his heels just to be certain Emery was out before his eyes shifted back toward a very pleased Brennan; her cerulean eyes radiating with delight as her lips cultivated into a sincere smile.

"I _never_ thought he'd shut up." she spoke, humor greatly plaguing her tone, with little remorse to be found within.

"I _tried_ to be polite and ask him to let you in, but men, especially of such a high status, can be _very _rude and arrogant."

Seely concurred with a vague nod and simply laughed.

"…_I missed you Bones_."

* * *

"Damn construction…" Angela groaned, her fingers prattling about the steering wheel in an exasperated manner as a young man in a yellow helmet held her at a stop with his left hand. She wasn't sure as to how Booth managed to escape such a ridiculous traffic junction, but perhaps he'd been innovative and taken another route. Of course, maybe innovative was an inaccurate term. She'd bet her college degree that he'd taken a longer way to bide his time, to somehow cultivate the courage within his heart to face Temperance on the cold, metal slab. Upon contemplating the thought, she impulsively shivered within her seat. Her best friend had been pronounced dead 6 hours ago, and she still couldn't even begin to fathom the actuality of it all. The sun was resonating brilliantly upon the horizon; the clouds leisurely grazed the limitless cobalt skies; the air was cool and subtle; yet something was missing that would've normally completed the tranquility of the atmosphere. And that something was Temperance.

Though many would find it unbelievable and improbable, Brennan had truly existed as her other half. Where as she herself was spontaneous, flamboyant, wild, and free, Temperance had been precise, diligent, cautious, and skeptical. She was the perfect contradiction, the actual correlating piece to the immense puzzle that constituted her life. And now, sitting alone in her car, waiting to be told she could go by a handsome construction worker, she found herself feeling so empty. Her best friend had been her foundation, her rock, so to speak, to lean upon in times of agony and happiness. Who could she possibly have now?

Of course, she acknowledged that she did have her colleagues, as well as her intimate relationship with Hodgins. However, none of them could provide what Brennan could. Cam didn't know the right words to say to quell the anguish of depressing days, nor know what coffee was most preferable on hangovers. Hodgins couldn't give insight nor support for relationship issues, and Zach couldn't be corrected when cliché sayings were stated improperly. None of them were the epitome of Temperance's attributes, and they'd never be, which was probably what hurt the most. To realize you had something so precious, only to have it so wrongly taken from you, was a agony that no heart could bare.

In fact, she found it miraculous that she could function decently enough to drive, none the less, be coherent. Her head ached and her eyes burned from the hours of crying, along with the coiling in disdain of her stomach. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. And though she tried to migrate her thoughts away from the situation, they always managed to crawl back; her heart and soul yearning just to be held, just to witness the glorifying laugh and gorgeous smile, of her best friend once more. But she knew it could never happen…she'd never have that wholeness in her life again.

The honking of an annoyed driver behind her roused her from her thoughts; her now hazed, chocolate eyes gazing toward the construction worker who now vehemently was ushering forward. Her pale cheeks flushed slightly as she apologetically waved toward him while she passed. Angela acknowledged with a faint smile that if Temperance had been beside her, she'd defiantly be chiding her in a mischievous tone upon not being more attentive. Yet the happiness of the thought withered just as quickly as it appeared, the crystalline sensation of tears within her eyes becoming more abundant.

_God Tempe….I miss you so damn much…._She thought despondently, her foot allotting more pressure upon the gas pedal as the exit for the hospital came within her sights.

_Hold on Booth. You won't go through this alone. I'll be there as soon as I can._

* * *

"Ah, this room feels much better already…" Booth spoke happily, as he now situated himself in a chair beside Temperance's bed.

He'd felt more relaxed since Emery's beaten body had been dragged from the room, (courtesy of himself), along with the doctor who quickly scurried out upon witnessing the struggle before hand. All in all, it had been a very wonderful 45 minutes that had left him with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

"Indeed. You definitely reinforced your alpha male territory." Bones replied, immediately flattered by the smile that graced his lips upon her words.

"I'd wished it could've been done sooner."

Her cerulean eyes met his chocolate ones upon the conclusion of her statement, herself perceiving the sorrow that resonated within.

"I'm sorry Bones…I tried to get here as quickly as I could…" he told her ruefully.

"It was just….hard to deal with since none of us could believe it…that you know…you were actually…"

His audacity diminished as his voice caught, his throat constricting and unable to utter the remaining, atrocious word. His eyes descended from her then, himself being incapable of absorbing the very essence of her vitality and beauty.

"_It's okay Booth_, _I know_…" she whispered, extending a feeble hand forward and clasping his upper arm in consolation.

"I just want you to know that, I _didn't_ want this. I was forced into this ridiculous scheme by that agent. I would've never condoned this secrecy, especially since I'm aware of the pain it can cause."

His hand had trailed toward hers upon his arm and clasped it tightly, clinging vehemently to the appendage for fear of letting her slip through his fingers again. She immediately became aware of the moist and warm skin that now overlapped her own, feeling with astonishment the subtle tremor that radiated from his muscular frame.

"_When_… _when they told me you'd __**died**_…" he whimpered, his head impulsively shifting upward while tears cascaded down the tan complexion of his face. Each drop had diminished the stolid façade he'd masked himself with, as his anguish was now finely etched upon his pores to be witnessed in gratifying glory.

"_I..I didn't know what to do…I knew I should've done more…I could've gotten up there and taken it…I should've been protecting you…I…I was a fool…_"

The fabrication of words ceased as his body foiled and began heaving distressed sobs. She could feel his tears and heated breathe charring her skin since his forehead had bestowed itself upon her hand; her own sorrow accumulating within her cerulean eyes while she observed him struggle in such agony.

"_Temperance_…" he cried, herself perceiving the increased pressure upon her hand from his continually constricting grip.

"_I'm… I'm so… so sorry…I should've taken those bullets…I should be where you are…__**Please**__… __**please forgive me**_…"

Temperance bit her lip in an attempt to contain the sob threatening to escape her throat.

"_Booth_…_Booth_…" she replied, her grasp upon him tightening as she weakly tried to pull his desecrated frame toward her. When she was unable to gain his attention, she subtly began to shake him.

"_Booth, come here. Come here_…"

Her compassionate words were able to rouse him from agonized stupor as he obliged her request. He gingerly rouse up and gravitated toward her submissively, her arms weaving about him and providing a magnificent reprieve from reality. His trembling body rigidly plastering against her own, Brennan gently rocked him in her embrace, as if believing the movement could some how release the anguish incarcerating him.

"Booth, I _won't_ apologize…because those shots were _meant_ for me…" she coaxed, her clasp upon him tightening as he writhed in disparity within her arms.

"You're always protecting me, so I returned the favor. I don't regret it at all, except for the fact of hurting all of you with my faked death. However, as I said., I was the intended target, and I would've rather it been that way than you. _Please _don't apologize Booth. You did nothing wrong."

"_Y-Yes I did_…" he stuttered once more, gathering strength and thrusting himself out of her arms in order to gaze into her cerulean eyes.

"_I-I put you up there on that stage…I put you up there for anyone to hurt you…_"

"You _couldn't _have known that Booth." she interjected, however, her words had gone neglected as his hysteria continued.

"_And you __**did **__get hurt! You got shot! __**Twice**__! A-And no matter what I did…t__**he blood wouldn't stop…you wouldn't stop bleeding**_…"

"_But Booth, I'm okay_!" Temperance bellowed, her hands reaching upward to clasp his face, as to emphasize her existence by the mere contact if their skin.

"**I'm okay…Booth, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere…I promise…**"

The pacifying graze of her fingers upon his cheeks didn't seem enough for him, as his chocolate eyes gazed at her forlornly. He needed more…something _tangible _that'd prove she wouldn't disappear the minute his eyes closed, or perhaps the instant he turned away. So he did the only logical thing that registered within his thoughts as a probable solution.

Ascending his hands upward to clasp her elegant face, he inclined forward and delicately inserted his lips upon her own. He felt her body immediately stiffen in shock, however, her anxiety began to recede as their lips harmonized in an affectionate waltz.

Though her lips portrayed no offense, mentally, Temperance was indeed astonished at the sudden action. Of course, this was not to imply that she hadn't been yearning for an intimate moment with her partner, cause to admit such would be lying. She had been for a long time now, and although she was elated that it was finally happening, she found herself wishing it had taken place under better circumstances. However, she was satisfied regardless since Booths lips were the epitome of perfection against her own, and she'd do all plausible to prolong this moment.

Seely himself was astounded at his brazenness, yet Bones appeared to have no qualm with his irrationality. Her lips were an enticing concoction of vanilla and cinnamon, and no matter how many times their mouths came into contact, his ravenous hunger couldn't be quelled; her yearned for more. However, Brennan was in no condition to be sexually active, and of course, he'd never force her to submit to his lustful desires regardless. That, and he would want them to be a couple before making such a leap, since it'd take immense effort to seep in through any possible cracks within the barrier Temperance had cultivated about herself.

Yet he'd gladly wait for the chance to illustrate his love to her, as long as he could just hold and kiss her passionately as he was doing now.

"_Temperance_…" he whispered as their lips dismantled, their lungs heaving in desperation to circulate oxygen back through their systems.

"**I love you**…"

Her cerulean eyes widened astonishment, her swollen lips agape.

"I realized it the minute they'd told me you were dead…because suddenly, there was a giant void in my life that I couldn't satisfy… I can't fill it with the rest of the squints, my job, Parker, or any other woman. All I _want _and _need_ is you. I'm _nothing_ without you beside me…_**I love you so damn much**_."

Silence eloped the atmosphere around them, and for an instant, Booth became antagonized by horror upon the fact that Brennan didn't correlate with his feelings. However, as his gaze intensified upon her, he acknowledged the tears materializing with her eyes and gradually cascading down her skin; the most sincerest and jovial of smiles coiling her lips.

"_Oh Seely_…" she whispered, once again embracing him and pulling him near as her forehead bestowed itself upon his.

"_**I love you too**_…"

**YAY!!! Some Brennan and Booth fluff for ya there. Hope you liked it. Thanks to all those who are reviewing and adding this story to their favorites/alert list. I appreciate all the support. Love you guys!**


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